Mrs.Phillips, in apple-green with an ostrich feather in her hair, greeted her effusively, and introduced her to her fellow guests.

Mr.Airlie was a slight, elegant gentleman of uncertain age, with sandy hair and beard cut Vandyke fashion.

He asked Joan's permission to continue his cigarette.
"You have chosen the better part," he informed her, on her granting it.
"When I'm not smoking, I'm talking." Mr.McKean shook her hand vigorously without looking at her.
"And this is Hilda," concluded Mrs.Phillips.

"She ought to be in bed if she hadn't a naughty Daddy who spoils her." A lank, black-haired girl, with a pair of burning eyes looking out of a face that, but for the thin line of the lips, would have been absolutely colourless, rose suddenly from behind a bowl of artificial flowers.

Joan could not suppress a slight start; she had not noticed her on entering.
The girl came slowly forward, and Joan felt as if the uncanny eyes were eating her up.